The Nature of Ice
by Cobra Milk and Owl Tears
Summary: Small voices, quiet footsteps, soft candle light, and warm summer air came to meet him where he sat, among the weather-worn roof tops. He looked up with confusion at the Man-In-The-Moon in all of his omniscience as he rose. "Why bring me here? What am I supposed to do?" He had expected no real answer but he still couldn't help the twinge of disappointment imbued in the silence.


Small pulses of life emanated from the surrounding homes of warm wood and stone, barely illuminated in the oncoming nightfall. Small voices, quiet footsteps, soft candle light, and warm summer air came to meet him where he sat, among the weather-worn roof tops. Horses nickered quietly in their stables and water lapped at the boats at the docks in the soothing quiet. Everything was calm, settling contently into the night that had claimed the town in its domain.

He looked up with confusion at the Man-In-The-Moon in all of his omniscience as he rose. "Why bring me here? What am I supposed to do?" With Pitch in check, children were safe again. The Guardians could be at ease now. Why had he been whisked away to this quiet town? Specifically him? What so needed him here, in the middle of summer? He was far off from his route to bring on his flurries and snow. He wasn't needed here in such a season. Was that the Moon's intention? To bring snow to this land? Who could need him? He had expected no real answer but he still couldn't help the twinge of disappointment that came with the silence that followed. He would have find out on his own again, so be it.

Jack gripped his staff tighter in his palms and in one silent motion he kicked off the building, a flurry of white forming in his midst, and landed weightlessly on the cobblestone streets below. There he paused as ice pooled at his feet, gazing around at the looming structures in his view.

The smell of burning firewood wafted to him from a little ways away, along with the stirring of laughter. He approached the small paled house, set apart from the rest and listened. Shallow thuds from small feet resounded through the walls. A little girl with brown hair darted past the small open window as he set his eyes on it and she was just as suddenly out of sight in a fit of giggles, leaving the pulled curtains in flight in her wake. She was followed by a boy of darker hair, older and likely her brother, laughing and chasing her around the room. Her little feet darted across the polished wood floor and led her into the twin bed in the small room and he strode up to her and tickled her through the quilted mass of blankets. Jack watched her erupt in bubbly laughter until she could barely stand to breathe. Her brother laughed with her, then hugged her and settled at the foot of the bed to tell her goodnight. Both of them remained oblivious to the ice forming on the window pane but at the moment, Jack was okay with it. The joy and fun in the moment were intoxicating and he felt sure there was no harm plaguing these children now. Pitch's influence was no where in sight. These kids were at peace and happy in this quiet little town. He continued to watch the two of them with contentment until the dim candle that illuminated the room was gripped in small hands and extinguished so only the cooling light of the moon shown through the pane. As the two departed, however, the connection between them gave him an uncomfortable weight in his stomach. Exuberant life gave way to peaceful sleep and he felt himself being pulled away, detached.

Something overwhelmed him where he stood, gazing through the window and all of its walls to something beyond his own memory; a powerful sense of nostalgia. He tried to dilute it with his senses, and made manual steps away, down the road, tentatively feeling the pressure of his weight settle on his feet with every step, and the touch of the warm uneven stone as he moved along, absentmindedly tracing lines of ice beside him in the path with his staff. He felt his chest rise and fall slowly and evenly and listened to the crickets singing sweetly and softly. Shutters closed with a dull thud somewhere further away and from here he could hear the water lapping at the docks. He allowed himself then to look at the slumbering town around him differently. He felt it take on new life, a sense that he had walked these peaceful streets before, although he felt sure he had never been here until tonight.

He realized now that ever since he had first found out about his past with Baby Tooth, he'd never allowed himself time to absorb it. He'd never allowed himself to question who he was before, what he had left behind. He wondered about the family he had and all the faces and names that escaped his memory. Did he have friends? Who had been the most important in his life? Brown hair and small hands came to mind. The little sister that remained nameless to him. He wondered the life she had lived after he had gone. He wondered what could have become of him. He felt pieces missing and the empty space bothered him, so he shut the thoughts out. The support he lost after he died was here with him now, after all. He had a place, a family as one of the Guardians. He wasn't alone.

Wasn't he? After another moment of realization, he felt that they really weren't his family. Including himself, they each owed their time and devotion to the children, not to each other. After the battle with Pitch, they all had gone their separate ways and in this moment, in this unfamiliar place away from everything else, he felt the full weight of his isolation. The solitude that had gripped him when he first awoke.

He quickly pulled himself from these thoughts, letting them fall away like water, and looked back up at the sky. The light glinting from the Moon was shrouded in clouds, thick with the promise of rain, and he wondered again, 'why was he here?' What was in store for him in this town? He realized his pace had stilled. He only stood there in the middle of the road, gazing hopelessly skyward.

One thing he WAS sure of, as his eyes settled on the stars, was that he was here for a reason. The Man-in-the-Moon had something in store for him alone. He let his eyes slowly fall and they swept over a castle of steep peaks and proud build off in the distance, kissing the waters edge. Aimless and curious, he let his feet guide him there, placing one foot in front of the other, and again and again. He walked a while longer, in tune with the life around him until the Moon was well at its highest point in the sky. Feeling lighter, he took to the air, playing with the wind, feeling the chill and feeding his own delight. It rustled the grasses and trees and pursued the streets and smoking chimneys as a mischievous, misplaced winter breeze. He watched it as a smile tugged at his lips, summoning snow flurries to dance in it as he leaped into the gust and let it carry him. It led him further down by the water, and further upward until the world below was shapeless, a dark mass that rose to meet him as he dove. A swift current of air bounded upwards and engulfed him, sweeping him away just before he would plummet into the stone of the castle wall, bordering the shore.

In the dark, waves lapped at the rocks below him, but his interest was the looming structure before him. Pale, sun washed colors coated its exterior, and steep columns and roofs seemed to be holding up the sky where it sat, aged and brooding in its solitude. In places, the walls showed ware and cracks and chipped paint. Spiderwebs gleamed through the sleek windows in the moonlight. The roof plates were missing in a few spots, cracked and broken on the ground well below. It stood, facing the town, yet it was distanced and walled off. It had isolated itself from its subjects, and though some of the little rooftops of the town strayed close to the castle wall as though trying to listen, the castle remained silent, withholding its secrets.

He followed the perimeter of the wall, gazing inwards in the light of the darkness. His curiosity was struck and he ventured closer, about to steal into an opened window when something caught his eye; a gleaming light in the corner of his vision. A blue glint that flickered and vanished so quickly that his initial thought was that he had seen nothing at all. He leaped the distance from the castle wall flawlessly; carefully, silently placing a steady foot on the window sill.

He knelt down and peered inside, using the staff gripped in both hands as a balance as he made out the gleaming shapes and shadows that the window exposed.

Horror and disbelief lit his features with furrowed eyebrows and wide eyes. A crescent barrage of ice splayed out before him, sporadic shards that reached in every direction and continued to spread as he locked his eyes on the scene. A little girl lay at its center, curled with her head tucked in her knees. Her shoulders heaved with silent, heavy sobs. Only a knot of pale hair showed through the slender arms that locked around her and her trembling fingers desperately gripped at her elbows as though it were the only thing holding her delicate frame together. She looked like she was trying to recede into herself. The barrier of ice claimed the room in front of her, ice clawing at the walls and the carpet, devouring the curtains and the bed posts and sealing the door in a sheen of gleaming white. Jack watched it as it ate at the corners of the window right before his eyes.

Had he done this?

The hold on his staff faltered and he reflexively reached down, recovering it in a sloppy maneuver and sealing his fingers around it. He felt for the traces, the tremble in the wood that signified his magic at work but he knew in that second that this wasn't his doing.

Ice. Menacing ice. Why was it here? What was happening? The image of Pitch crept into the back of his mind, but ice? This couldn't be the work of Pitch. Ice was his and his alone. Winter was his making. But, here sat this little girl, trembling in her tears. His stomach dropped. Ice. Where had it come from? What had happened? What could he do?

He needed to reach her. He extended a hand and pressed his fingertips against the glass. Could he open it? He slid a careful hand down, feeling for a latch, but the pane gave way under the pressure of his hand, and creaked and crackled inwards, cutting through the strong silence in the room.

Another sob caught in her throat at a noise somewhere far away from her thoughts. It moaned in pain somewhere in the darkness and persisted for a long moment before being consumed by the silence. Fear clutched her stomach as she wondered if she had been caught. Was it her father again?

She imagined his face, horrified at the scene that engulfed her. The worry. The disappointment. He couldn't see her like this. He couldn't see how badly she had lost control.

'Conceal it. Don't feel it. Don't let it show.'

Her eyes lifted quickly, adjusting to the dim light and flickering around the room, still reddened and glassy with tears.

To her relief, and her pain, the door was sealed over in ice. Her room in its entirety was at the mercy of her emotions and outbursts. This power. Why? Why had she been cursed with this power? Why was she chosen to be a freak among these people? Why couldn't she learn to control it? Why did she have to hurt the people she cared about? Why? The image of her little sister plagued her. She missed her so much. She hated this; this cruel isolation.

A muffled moan rose from her throat and she erupted in more heavy tears, careful to repress them in silence. Her face stung from crying. She hated this. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't stop these tears. She couldn't control this ice.

A gust of cold wind greeted her through her opened window but it didn't phase her. She didn't realize that the window was open. She didn't hear the footsteps drawing near to her side or the soft voice of concern. She didn't feel the large hand that reached out to rest on her shoulders.

It went through her. Jack pulled away, pain replacing concern on his face. She couldn't see him. She didn't believe in him.

He knelt there in silence for a long moment, watching her quiet cries, feeling so close and so far away at the same time. His sight locked on her and the furrowing in his brows showed the deep thought that possessed him then.

He had to think of something.

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><p>I have a basic sense of direction in which to lead this story but I'm open to suggestions. Feed back is useful and much appreciated and critical analysis is always welcome. I can't provide guaranteed weekly updates like other fabulous authors here but I enjoy what I write, so you can be rather rest assured that I'll eventually find my way back. Thanks in advance. -Cobra<p> 


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